Golem
by Jess Idres
Summary: A Golem is made to turn the tide of the Final War. But a golem must be made with the dirt of a grave....who died in the cave that gave birth to the stone automaton?
1. Default Chapter

Title: Golem  
Summary: A different take on the remains of a diary and a war.  
Disclaimer: don't own anything but a deranged imagination. Also this is my first Harry Potter drabble, so be kind.  
Thanks: I'd like thank Kales and Lexi for Beta-ing and providing general corrections for this fic. I apologize to all those had to read it without the corrections- I fully admit my own reading lacks the skills necessary.  
The first thought he had when he took his first breath on his first day in the world as something else than a man had been How? He had no body to resurrect…only ink for blood and pages for mortal flesh. He then wondered how he had gotten here--Basilisk venom was a powerful acid and he had been bathed in it. His death had been quick, but not painless. How had the permanency of death escape him again?   
  
He smelled of mud and mossy stone, of dry leaves and a faint smell of ink. His eyes came into focus sharply, but bright and vibrant colors escaped his range of sight. His sense of touch was dull and numbing, much like his mind felt. But his hearing was sharp and caught the sound of two mortal men speaking in hushed tones as he sat up. Mortal, unlike himself, as the knowledge of the three Hebrew symbols on his forehead told him what he was. He was the Golem.  
  
"Rise Golem," said a voice beside him, belonging to his master. His name was Godric Lebowitz, a second generation wizard. A wizard; he was young and barely trained. Little bits of his life trickled by the Golem's inner eye, but he ignored most but the basics. This, he knew, was caused by the improper way he was created--the creature known as the Golem had been made many times before, or so the symbols whispered. He knew what should have been done, to properly make the non-mortal he was. But he had been created with the stone and the soil that he had been laid to rest in, unceremoniously, in the Chamber many years before. He was consciousness of the Golem now. Not that it mattered. Master made him move; Master made the rules.  
  
The inner eye of the Golem ran like a news ticker in his mind, telling him the reasons why they had dared to create the creature. He saw an army surround the castle he had died under. He had been raised to fight. To protect. To serve the followers of the children he had once fought against. But he did not care. For Golems have no feelings; they spoke the symbols; Golems have no hearts.  
  
  
God is truth. God is Dead. So begins and ends the life of a Golem.  
  
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Please tell me if you want this continued. I never can gauge the end of a   
story.  
The workings of the Golem are taken from various Jewish folklore I have studied- most don't give the exact details or ingredients, and the symbols used to create the creature often change from story to story- so I used the most popular- and the most Nietzsche.  
And I do hope everyone got who the Golem was. 


	2. The Survivors

Chapter 2: Again thank you Kales and Lexi for helping me in the rewriting process. Again, apologies to those who read it the first time around. Thank you also to all that have left feedback.  
  
"Do what you think is right."  
That had been his master's first order real order to him. Or at least he took it as his first order, although the master seemed talking more to himself than to his brand new creation. But Golems did as they were told, for they had no will, no drive of their own. The symbols bore this down on his memory, both as a Golem and a living book.  
But he had been created wrong. Made too fast, without all the proper hymns. This stayed at the back of his mind, like a tiny itch, or a buzz. He followed his master's orders, but could fill in the gaps here he missed-- if he chose to.  
The Golem shuffled behind Godric into the courtyard of Hogwarts. Where children used to study and laugh had become a veritable sea of tents. Refugees crowded around fires, their conversations and smoke drifting into the senses of the creature. He found that each voice was accompanied with a list of information that floated past his inner eye. Sarah Pellows, orphaned when Death Eaters used her parents to raise Nightshades-creatures named after the deadly plant from which they are created; Othello Newton, sister murdered while they slept; Rowena Fornyte, husband died in a battle last year. Each person here had lost someone, each a victim of the war. The Golem would have felt sickened if he could.   
As Godric traveled farther into the tents, the Golem started to recognize some of the names that past by his inner eye. Colin Creevey, graduated two years ago, returned when Hogsmeade fell 2 months ago; Blaise Zabini, graduated three years ago, mother exploded in front of her when a spell misfired, returned when she was told to become a Death Eater or die by her father. The Golem wondered fuzzily if that meant that the ones he dealt with before he had died were here, or if they had already succumbed to the death that kept escaping him.  
Godric had opened a tent flap and looked back at his creation questioningly. I wonder if he will fit read the inner eye. The Golem looked up with his muddy eyes and noted that the tent's top reached to at least fourteen feet; enough to fit the nine-foot Golem with ease. So the Golem nodded.  
This startled Godric only slightly, less than the creature had expected. Did he know what happened when a Golem was made imperfectly? He frowned slightly, and the symbols itched, searching for the last time he had been made so quickly that he had been made wrong. The last time had been in Germany, during the Second World War, when a young woman had made him-no, her, for the Golem had the look of a woman during that life. When he remembered that, the puzzle fell into place and the lines connected, and he knew how Godric had learned to make a Golem. His great-grandmother had shown him as a boy, only to be used in the utmost need. And she had told him how the Golem could sometimes read.  
Back then, the Golem could speak. But now, he yet to even make a sound, for the Golem knew his voice was not needed. They had use only for its strength and its rocky form-he was to be someone on the front line, not in the Ghettos of Berlin.  
"Follow me." Spoke his master, and the Golem nodded, slowly, before he, too, trudged through.  
  
The council that rounded the table had seen better days. Harry Potter now sat in the high chair that Dumbledore had occupied not a day before; the elder now lay in a coma in the Great Hall-which now served as Hospital for the failing. The number of people dying or wounded now doubled the number of those who could still fight. Ron Weasley sat at his left, stone-faced and somber, silently grieving for his brother Bill and Percy-one dead, the other a thrall to the Dark lord. Hermione sat to the High Chair's left, her left eye covered with a patch. It had been taken not by another wizard but for the spell of Farsight,   
allowing her to see even now what the enemy planned. She whispered unendingly all she saw. Once outlaw, now confidant, Sirius Black looked over a magical map with his old friend Remus Lupin, whose transformations were now a blessing, the mindless beast loose, fast weapon in the battlefield. Their former enemy, Severus Snape, spent most of his time helping with the injured, but he advised them on the methods of the Death Eaters as much as he could.  
Virginia Weasley, the younger sister of Harry's right hand man, and protégé of Remus, as well as the late Madam Pomfrey, looked to the door as the flaps slapped back together. Godric, one of the younger ones, had come in with a giant. A giant made of rock and mud, which blinked at her in almost recognition with its black stony eyes. "A Golem." She stood up with this revelation, making the rest around the table look up as well.  
Godric smiled wearily at his mentor. "Yes, a Golem…I didn't think it would work…but it did, just like Nanna had told me…" He collapsed wearily.  
"A Golem?" Harry looked to the younger Weasley for explanation.  
"A creature from Judaic myth, made of stone and mud," Virginia walked around the thing, inspecting it's makeup. "It follows the commands of its master to the last letter, and exactly. It can only be destroyed by the remaking of the last Hebrew word on its head from 'truth' to 'dead'. And there is never more than one ever in existence at one time. Some even say it is the same Golem every time." She then frowned, as if trying to remember something. "Godric, has it said anything?"  
"No…but it really hasn't had time…I think it understands, though…" He drifted in and out of consciousness on the bench he had fallen onto.  
Virginia looked up at the Golem. "Golem, can you speak?" She said softly, trying not to look too idiotic if the Golem truly only obeyed Godric.  
The Golem let out a gush of moldy, mossy air- laced with something else she couldn't identify. "Yes." The voice was creaky and harsh, and it seemed to take the Golem by as much surprise as Virginia had. But that was a trick of the light, for Golems had no emotions.  
  
Golems had no hearts.  
  
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Heh. Ok, chapter two. I'll get to the Golem's reaction in chapter three, as   
well as more of the survivors.   
Good? Bad? Pitiful? TELL ME, Gods darnit! 


	3. Trapped in the Golem's head

When the he had finally broken the silence that had surrounded him since his rebirth into earth and stone, it caught even the Golem off-guard. But then, Virginia had always managed to create the nexpected in him. The symbols itched and ached, pulling him away from any memories he might have, reminding him he had a purpose here. No room for old thoughts--they caused hesitation from the task at hand as they grounded against each other.  
But a thought rebelled against the dullness that swathed his mind and past-- Why had he followed the order? She was not Master. The symbols did not answer, and the inner eye's stream of thought provided no revelations.   
Virginia Weasley, nineteen years old, graduated two years ago from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizards. Possessed as a child by the manifestation of Tom Riddle hidden in a diary--  
Again the voice, not swathed in numbness screamed-- possessed by me! I am Tom! It was me that held her like a puppet on little silk strings! She was mine! I am Tom Riddle! I REMEMBER--  
--Freed by Harry Potter. Elder brother Bill was killed by Voldemort in Egypt last year, elder brother Percy turned into a Death Eater four years earlier. Was taken captive once three years ago by a trio of Death Eaters. She killed one with a pen and escaped, but still suffered from post-traumatic stress. She mentors Godric Leibowitz-the Master- in archaic Defense the Dark Arts spells, many which she has uncovered herself after her imprisonment. Has attempted to keep Godric from getting himself killed, living up to his ancestor's name, Godric Gryffindor. Has feeling of affection for the young wizard, but has vowed against any love until the war is over.  
He tried to ignore the unending history of Virginia Weasley. He knew her already, better than Master, better than Harry Potter, better than anything the symbols could ever tell him. The voice ravaged against the emotionless veil, demanding the symbols acknowledge this, to admit that they did not know everything.   
The symbols did not answer him.  
  
It was one thing to be given a gift. It was another to use it wisely.  
"I say we have it charge through and kill Voldemort. That would settle this war once and for all!" Ron smacked his fist against the table to make his point.  
Virginia shook her head at her elder brother. "A Golem is immortal, yes, but it can be stopped. Blast it into little pieces and it could take years for it to gather itself back together. Freeze it, or bury it, and it will be gone for several days at least. No, it needs to do a job that we can't, but one that won't make it obvious we have it to our advantage."  
Harry nodded. "She's right, Ron."  
Ron glowered at his sister. "For all we know, she could still be his little thrall-" His muttering was stopped by a slap, not from his sister, but from his lover.  
Hermione, who had been quiet this entire time, save for her usual string of cryptic observations, held her companion's cheek, guiding his gaze to her and away from his sister. "You still hurt from Percy's betrayal, Ron. That is no reason to attack her. You know your sister has proven her worth a thousand times over."   
Ronald Weasley bowed his head in shame. "I'm sorry, Gin."  
His sister smiled a tired little smile at him. "Then stop calling me by childhood name. We're not children anymore. No one is." The last phrase was soft and bitter, and argued by none. She turned to Hermione. "What are your thoughts on the Golem?"  
Three eyes met, and Virginia couldn't help but internally shiver at the price Hermione had been willing to pay for the ultimate knowledge. Unlike the others, Virginia had been present when the ritual had taken place, for she had the best medical skills of the group, had the rite gone wrong. She knew what lay underneath the red and gold swathe of silk and lace. She also understood the sacrifice, and accepted it, something her brother could not. "The Golem can speak, can it not? What does it have to say for its fate?"  
The Golem, which had stayed a silent guard at the door for all this time, looked up. "I will do whatever I am ordered to do. That is my purpose." Rock eyelids moved, making a mockery of a blink.  
Virginia threw her hands into the air. "Don't you have an opinion, in the least?"  
"I am without will. I only follow my master's will."  
"Then why did you answer me? I am not your master!"  
The automation blinked again. "But my master would answer to you."  
Virginia looked at Hermione, and they shared a silent thought on the amount of will of this creature. Women's intuition nagged at the statements of the creature. But it was pointless to argue with something made of rock. Hermione looked to the creature.   
"It is strong and it is fast, and no Death Eater can detect it. It is the perfect thing to be a courier to the front and back. It won't be seen behind our lines, but will still be able to protect those who cannot help themselves. We need not to waste good man power moving the wounded from harms way. It would free many of us from so much…worry." She shot Virginia another look. She knew the Head Medic's constant worries about them as she was forced to stay behind.  
Harry nodded, as did most of the others. The Golem's fate was sealed.   
  
The Golem almost nodded in agreement at the wise decision. But it knew better. Golems were not wise.  
  
Golems have no wills. 


	4. Regards

Golum 4-Regards  
  
AN: So I'm lazy. And have writer's block. I'd update more often if I actually was reviewed now and then (hint, hint). Even if you tell me to drop dead and take this garbage of FF.net-tell me at least. Just remember to do unto others as you would do unto them. Which means: What comes around goes around, so you'd best not bitch. I mean…  
Hehe…  
  
No one could accuse the Golem of not following orders, no matter which one of the council gave them. But except for the ones that came from Godric's mouth, it often changed the order slightly, making the leap in logic one would expect from an intelligent mind, not from an automation at least. Virginia said nothing, but continued to watch the Golem, wondering why it nagged at her mind so.  
Something in the way it spoke, even the voice, was vaguely familiar. It called up images of school and hiding places she couldn't quite remember. Like a poor recording of what once was, it was nonetheless something that struck a cord. She pushed the thoughts away, and went back to work on this man's leg, that one's arm, another one's soul.  
Once though, as she awaited another wave of infirmary patients to her doorstep, she saw the Golem alone, looking into what had once been one of the many birdbaths on the school grounds. The rock of its face contorted, again making a mockery of a human expression, and a hand slapped away the water from the pool. Was there something about itself that it didn't like? Had the Golem worn a different face before? The creature had held its head in a massive hand, and let forth a gusty wind. She frowned slightly, a bit of her heart going out to the rocky thing. This wasn't its fight, after all.  
She hadn't notice it stop moving, though, until it raised its head, looking in her direction. For a moment, the medic and the monster's gaze locked, and a shiver went up the woman's spine. Was it just her imagination, or had the Golem looked at her with a look…akin to fright? But it was gone as soon as it came, and the Golem lumbered back to the front line.  
  
Godric looked at her, confused, "You say you think there's a spirit trapped in that beast?"  
She continued to look out the window, taking in the quietness of the land, even if it was only for the night. "Look, I never said I was positive, but you should have seen it then. It has a mind behind that rocky skull. It…just worries me. What if it's an enemy Godric? What if it's just waiting for the right time to kill us all?"  
He sighed, and wished for a moment he wasn't so tired, so he might be better comfort. "I don't really see how's that's even possible. Even if it was possessed by a spirit of some sort, it would have to be a good one--after all, I made sure to make it on Hogwarts grounds." He let his body relax in the chair. She had a tendency to worry too much. Did it have to do something with her torture from the enemy? He had heard bits about something even before then, involving the Dark Lord himself, but she would not tell him.  
"Where did you make it, anyhow? In the Forbidden Forest?"  
"No. I was doing a perimeter check and found a cave near the sound end of the castle. Seemed they're been a cave-in recently. It looked like it had once been part of the school, but the tunnels long since collapsed. There was black mud though, and granite, by an underground spring. Stop worrying about it. Anyhow, you've got your shift in a minute or two."  
"I know. Maybe it's one of our dead, and that's why it nags me so." But her heart told her otherwise as the fog quietly rolled in.  
  
When she reached the Great Hall, however, there the Golem sat, a mound of earth in the dark musty corner. Had she not known it moved, it would have been like gargoyle, guarding the wounded from evil spirits. It did not meet her gaze as she walked in, nor for most of the night.  
She worked diligently, giving this one a draught from the Potion master, lying her hands on the next. Some she could not do more than hold their hand as they hacked out their last breath. She worked on, particularly on Dumbledore, but she always kept an eye on the Golem. The headmaster lay as if asleep, face untroubled as it had been, eyes occasionally moving underneath shut eyelids. Still, even fading, the old man give a sense of peace to those around him amongst all the pain. She forgot even the Golem for a moment, before letting Severus take over.   
Then, as she sat with a poor young girl who had lost an arm, singing softly spells to dispel the fear that clung to the child, she felt a shiver trace up the hairs of her back, shooting up her spine, urging her to turn around. She discreetly looked over to the seated beast, and caught it staring…at her? She matched his stare, and she was accosted by an image, overlaying those empty sockets she matched now, of dark green eyes and long black lashes. She blinked, and it was gone.  
The Golem rose, and both returned to their jobs, neither one quite sure to make of the other.  
  
The Golem set off down the half destroyed hillside, towards the dim lights of the war, ignoring the dull pain his chest that seeped past the numbness. The symbols burned his forehead, but even they could not drown out the throb. A stony hand laid to rest on the breast, feeling a soft movement there.  
  
Maybe the Golem had a heart. 


End file.
